Our New Nightmare
our new nightmare based off The Recruit comic by ArualMeow and a roleplay channel ~*~ there are ten members of the cult and each one has to prove their innocence ~*~ allegiances thunderclan Leader: Fawnstar - white-and-brown she-cat with amber eyes Deputy: Featherfoot - large fluffy light gray tom with black stripes Medicine Cat: Clearblaze - ginger she-cat with white legs and green eyes Pineberry - short broad-shouldered brown tom with small ears Warriors: Cedarshade - brown tabby tom with white chest, toes, and tail tip Patchleaf - white tom with ginger tabby patches and green eyes Firepool - ginger tabby tom Brookmist - torbie she-cat with white legs and tail tip, dark brown eyes, and a black patch around her left eye Frostwillow - large white tom with broad shoulders and a smudge of gray on his forehead, and gray paws; blue eyes Honeythroat - black tom with light ginger ears, chest, belly, and under-tail; bronze nose and sideburns Sundrop - gingery-golden tom with white toes, ear tips, and tail tip Birchleaf - gray-and-black tom with blue eyes Willowfoot - black tabby tom with creamy-white chin, chest, right leg, and tail tip Hollyfang - black speckled she-cat with green eyes Tawnyshine - genderfluid tortoiseshell with white on chest and paws Clearlake - light silvery-blue she-cat with tabby points and yellow eyes Ivysplash - white-and-gray tom with red and green eyes Queens: Vixenfrost - plump calico she-cat Batflight - black, gray, and white she-cat Elders: Smokestripe - brown tabby she-cat with patchy fur and one eye missing Sweetmask - battle-scarred she-cat with tabby points and a gray face; almost blind prologue "tawnyshine is dead, killed by foxes. we will hold vigil for her soon." - fawnstar, prologue Pineberry was sorting some herbs, and starting humming, adjusting his flower crown. He looked up to see Brookmist padding in. "Hey Misty," he meowed, using his nickname that he had for her. On her back was some sort of pelt, or whatever. Did Patchleaf give that to her? he wondered. The tom shrugged and continued working. This was the first time he worked in a couple days. Often he could be seen relaxing, or visiting the kits. They were all very cute, and he especially liked Pinekit. Then he saw it more clearly. It was Smokestripe, obviously dragged here by Brookmist. She gently put him down and explained that the tom had serious wounds to the face and especially the chest. "Who did this?" he asked as he quickly examined the elder. Brookmist sighed, and sat down, watching him work. "Tawnyshine," she explained. "He was about to tell the kits what 'b!$%#' meant." He nodded and began making a poultice of . . . what stopped infection again? Marigold, chervil, stuff like that. Pineberry applied that to the wounds, and then covered them up with cobwebs to secure them. "You should be good," he told the elder. Smokestripe grunted and heaved himself off the ground. "Thanks," he grunted before padding out. Pineberry sighed. "Clean up the fur, 'kay? I'm gonna go talk to my sister." Brookmist nodded, and he noticed a slight wince in her eye before she turned away to clean up the fur. The tom decided to dismiss it as nothing, and walked out, adjusting the flower crown on his head on the way out. He was humming a tune, the same tune Mottledrose used to sing when she was alive. Still can't believe she's dead. At least the vigil was spiced up . . . They spent more time than was probably necessary or acceptable talking about her many antics. Moving on . . . He started walking out of camp, forgetting all about the rule that a cat must be accompanied with another warrior to walk out of camp. Pineberry did what Pineberry wanted so he strode out of camp like it was no big deal. Then he realized he goofed and didn't know where Tawnyshine was. Oh well. He sniffed, searching for her scent, until he found it. Actually kinda strong, and it was pointing in the direction towards Fourtrees. And was that . . . crowfood? No, he was imagining it. Perking up, he half-trotted, half-sprinted towards Fourtrees. To his dismay, however, Tawnyshine was not there. But . . . why was her scent still so strong? Now he was sniffing the bushes, as he caught a strong scent of fox. At least the cobwebs were stopping him from completely running out of there. Just as he bent down to sniff some grass, he caught it. Blood. How old, he couldn't tell. His nose wasn't as trained as a warrior's. But still, there was blood. He ran down to where a small dip was. And there was his sister, sprawled out. Bent legs. Twisted paws. Snapped neck. Panic and grief overcame him and all he could think was, I gotta save her! He ran down, pulling off the cobwebs, and started pressing them, the blood still flowing out. I'm here. I can do it. I can save her. He pressed against the wounds, warm blood staining his fur, lapping at his legs, getting in his claws . . . No. It wasn't warm. It was cold as ice. This wasn't true. She wasn't dead. She was still alive, bleeding, but alive. He could save her. He had to. Pineberry frantically checked her pulse. Dead. Not a single beat. She wasn't breathing. She wasn't moving. But she couldn't be dead. He checked once, twice, three times. No sign of life. Suddenly he realized the truth. She was dead. She wasn't coming back. The wail he let out could scare away any fox. ~*~ Featherfoot looked up from where he was grooming himself. "Has anyone seen Pineberry today?" he asked. The cats in the clearing all shook their heads. None of them had really seen them, or, if they did, he never stated where he was going. He walked up to his sister, Brookmist, who seemed to be avoiding him. "Do you know?" he asked, trying to get her to look him in the eye. She still avoided his gaze, muttering something about not really getting anything out of him. He sighed and booped her. "I know you better than that, Brooky. Tell me." She looked up at him, moaning. "He went to . . . to check on Tawnyshine. He said so himself." Her eyes were glistened with . . . what was it? Grief? Pain? He couldn't really tell. Anywho, he thanked Brookmist and padded out of camp, searching for Pineberry's scent. He looked all over, before scenting a smell that led to Fourtrees, but he didn't have to guess where the tom was, because as soon as he reached the fringes of Fourtrees, he heard a loud caterwaul. He angled his ears towards the sound, running towards it. What he found was not what he expected. Pineberry, pressed into his sister's fur. Tawnyshine, lying at an angle, her neck snapped, blood pooling at her brother's paws. A heavy sadness, and the stench of fox lying over the body. "Oh . . . Pineberry . . . I'm so sorry." He reached out and touched his tail-tip, pressing it against the younger tom's cheek. He remembered losing his sister to a snake bite seasons ago. The shorter tom whipped around. "Leave me alone!" he snapped, tears pouring down his face. "She . . . she . . ." He never got any further before breaking down. Featherfoot could only let the medicine cat lie against him, alone, left alone to wallow in his own grief. Nobody would share the grief that he held. Not Tawnyshine's friends, not her mate, nobody. Nobody knew her like Pineberry did. ~*~ Memories washed over Pineberry as he cried into Featherfoot's fur. He was a young kit, only two moons old. They brought him to a nursing queen. This is your new mother, they told him. And this is your new sister, Tawnykit. That's not my sister, he told them. That's not my mother. My mother doesn't look like that. Doesn't smell like that. My sister isn't named Tawnykit. Her name is Firefly. We couldn't find your sister, they told him. He wailed. He refused to meet his new "family." He refused to stay. He wanted to run back out. To find his family. To find Firefly. To find his mama. They caught him. They took him back to the nursing queen. She introduced herself as Willowbreeze. He didn't want to meet her. He wanted to be left alone. Tawnykit wouldn't listen though. At first he pushed her away. Then he let her cuddle him. Then they started play-fighting. And soon he forgot about finding his family. He loved her, she was the one he always turned to whenever he was feeling sad, and vice versa. They were inseperable. And he was waiting for the time they would be apprenticed. He had taken a liking to Clearblaze, the snarky medicine cat, and often spent time there, with Tawnykit toddling after him and usually messing up whatever herbs were laid out. "Someone needs to keep an eye on that kit," she muttered, cleaning up the catmint for what she said was the hundredth time. "I can't afford to keep cleaning up these herbs." "I could do it," he murmured, staring at her busy paws. "I could help you." Clearblaze smiled. "Thank you, Pinekit, but I think I can handle it." He sighed, dipping his head before running out squealing with his sister. Then the scene changed. He was now six moons old, finally, and was now shifting around waiting for him and Tawnykit to be apprenticed. Willowbreeze was trying to groom him, but he wasn't having it. Finally, he sit still, if reluctantly, and let her groom him. At last, Quailstar was ready for them. She stepped up, called the Clan meeting, which was pointless since everyone was already there, and turned to the two of them. The brown-and-white she-cat called up Tawnykit first. tbc one - brookmist "?" - brookmist, chapter one tbc